Comrade
by Zet Sway
Summary: A man can recover from broken bones and gunshot wounds. A man can survive having his legs cut off or his body burnt. But take a blow to his pride, to his personal security, and he'll never be the same. Leon/Krauser. TRIGGER WARNING for non-con. Oneshot.


**TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC RAPE.**

Disclaimer: Leon S. Kennedy and Jack Krauser are copyright to Capcom. Resident Evil is copyright to Capcom. I do not claim ownership of the characters or plot. I do not profit from the writing of this fiction. This is fan fiction only.

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><p>The autumn air is cool on my skin as I check my weapons. My automatic is fully loaded and my grenades are easily accessible. I wait for him.<p>

Long ago, I never would have dreamed I would be going toe to toe with a man as dependable as Leon. But Operation Javier was hard on everyone. Things had been going fine till he had to go and bring up his 'secret service president's mission bullshit. He had clued me in that I was just a pawn, nothing more than an extra body on a mission that I otherwise would have had no part in.

I would have preferred to stay naïve.

But I had found work with a much more powerful force. A force that had granted me power beyond my wildest dreams, and then tasked me with using it on the man who had ruined my life. Saddler may have told me to kill him, but I was prepared to make him suffer far worse.

So I wait for him. He is dependable, and after our previous confrontation, no doubt he is prepared to put up a real fight. I have blocked his only points of access to the primary research facilities on the island. He will come.

Minutes pass as I stand patiently, senses heightened, ready for whatever he has in store. It is not long before he arrives. He appears at ease, as if his guard has been dropped. But I know this is not the case. Leon is always on high alert. He walks cautiously but swiftly through the ruins of the island's ancient natives. Just as he approaches the stair to the only way out, I launch myself from my hiding position and land easily before him.

He jumps back. "Krauser!" He grits his teeth and readies his weapon, but I am faster. I fire my automatic at him but miss deliberately, making him think he has the upper hand already. He takes off, diving behind a wall and preparing whatever his offensive may be.

Leon is a skilled and talented agent, but my new skills surpass his. I am in front of him in a flash, and the look on his face is priceless. He stands to flee again, readying a flash charge, but I beat him to it. I kick his feet from beneath him and he lands flat on his back.

I waste no time. I press my boot to his chest and point my gun in his face. He freezes, as if ceasing movement will deter me from ruining him. He does his best to hide it but his eyes are fearful. This is the second time I have cornered him, and this time he has no woman in red to come to his rescue. My gun remains pointed at his head as I remove my boot from his chest.

"What do you want, Krauser?" He asks hesitantly. "Why are you doing this?"

I smirk. "Remove your pants, Kennedy."

He can't hide the shock from his face.

"Do it." I command coolly.

In seconds he grabs my wrist, attempting to twist it and wrench the gun from my fingers. He manages to point it away just as I fire a few rounds. Just as swiftly, I have his arms pinned above his head.

I roll him over on to his stomach and pin his arms behind his back with one strong arm as I go to work on his pants. He is silent, trying to remain calm as I manage to cut his belt loose with my knife and slide his pants over his ass. His blue boxer briefs follow, and soon his ass is exposed to the cool night air. I give it a smack and he grunts his dissatisfaction.

He remains silent. He knows what's coming. He is motionless, and I can tell he is planning his next move, but I don't worry. He is no match for me.

I slam his head down into the ground. He cries out as his face hits the dirt, now filthy and covered with dust. I smile, my manhood hardening at the sight of him, ass in the air, pants around his ankles, arms pinned behind his back. How cute.

"If it hadn't been for you, Kennedy, I never would have needed to leave the army," I say as I begin casually unzipping my pants. He shivers and shakes beneath me, squirming, still trying to gain the upper hand and flee. "It never would have come to this."

"I was just…" he grunts as my dry finger pushes at his anus. "Following… orders…"

"Famous last words, Kennedy. Famous last words." I pump my finger in and out of his ass and he bites his lip to keep from crying out, eyes squeezed shut.

"It's not like… I had a fucking… choice, Krauser."

I spit into my hand and moisten up my cock as much as I can so the dry friction won't rub me raw.

"You were more concerned with protecting that dumb bitch to even think about having a choice." I position myself behind him. "Too concerned with her to even think about the safety of your partner, of your mission."

"Well I couldn't just… leave her… there. She had… important-"

"I don't give a shit, Kennedy. You fucked up. And now I'm going to fuck _you _up." And with that, I push myself into him.

His face contorts in pain as I invade him, muscle spasaming and clenching around me, trying to force me out. I take him hard and then harder still. He is never going to forget me, that's for damn sure. I don't care if he has a mission to save the president's daughter. I want… no, _need_to hurt him. To hurt him in the worst way possible. Death isn't good enough. He needs to remember this for the rest of his life. Needs to be humiliated, beaten down, and put in his fucking place.

A man can recover from broken bones, from gunshot wounds. A man can survive having his legs cut off or his body burnt. He'll remember those things for the rest of his life, but he'll know that he put up a fight, that his wounds were superficial.

But take a blow to his pride, to his personal security, and he'll never be the same. Leon is never going to recover from this.

He squirms and fights me with every thrust as I allow him to wiggle his arms free. He struggles to kick, punch, scratch, or inflict any harm upon me, but I ignore him. He spits, curses and screams, but there is no one to hear him. He tries to crawl away, to flip himself over to get better leverage against me, but I simply shove his head back into the dirt and hold his hips fast.

He bleeds from the penetration and his shirt inches further down his body, angled toward the ground, until it is bunched around his chest.

"Not so fucking tough now, Kennedy. Where's your military training now? Where's your backup? Your precious president's orders?" All he can do is scream, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open against the dirt as he goes limp, saliva drooling from the corners of his lips. His hair is a messy halo of tawny blond. I smack his ass and grab a fistful of that hair, hauling him up till he is flush with my torso, and I grip his jaw. His face is filthy, moist with saliva and dirt.

I lean in toward his ear. "I said, where are your fucking orders now, Kennedy?"

He spits the dirt out of his mouth. "Burn in hell, Krauser." His voice is ragged and hoarse.

Enraged, I throw him back on the ground. "I'll beat the defiance out of you yet."

I pull his hips securely into my lap as he tries to crawl away, and penetrate him again, eliciting another delicious cry from his lips. He immediately bites down onto his gloved hand to stifle himself, and I can see tears in the corners of his eyes. Tears that he struggles to hold on to. Tears that, as they fall, bleed his masculinity away drop by feeble drop. He is broken, bruised, beaten, and _mine_.

The sight of him is too much. I have complete control, power, dominance. I tighten my grip on his virgin ass as I climax, truly feeling the sexual euphoria for the first time. I spill every last drop into him, as a reminder that he will never be rid of me, that he will never be able to scrub himself clean of this humiliation.

He body is completely limp as I pull out of him, tucking myself neatly back into my pants and standing up. I smirk as he groans and attempts to rise to his hands and knees, and laugh darkly as he fails. What a sight he is, dirty, bruised, and nearly naked, utterly defeated. His body shakes as he tries to stifle his sobs.

"Always remember that you brought this upon yourself, Kennedy." I spit on him and walk away, leaving him cold and alone on the ground.


End file.
